


Tickle Torture

by DefiledCinephile



Category: Taskmaster (UK TV) RPF
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Cock Worship, Cuckolding, Electricity, F/M, Feathers & Featherplay, Fucking, GettingTheGiggles, Hand Feeding, Humiliation, M/M, Master/Servant, Mind Games, Punishment, Rope Bondage, Service Kink, Situational Humiliation, Spanking, Tickling, Torture, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:41:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26495815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefiledCinephile/pseuds/DefiledCinephile
Summary: Alex gets himself into a spot of trouble with Greg when he attempts to hide just how ticklish he actually is.
Relationships: Alex Horne/Rachel Horne, Greg Davies/Alex Horne, Greg Davies/Alex Horne/Rachel Horne, Greg Davies/Rachel Horne
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	Tickle Torture

_Earlier, at the taping …_

“… I mean there’s some sexual tension between you … ” Jon said.

“What’s that got to do with it?” Greg snaps, growing mildly defensive as he checks for Alex’s reaction.

“It’s not a tension. We're very happy,” he replies nonchalantly.

Greg manages to withhold the onset of a sudden smirk.

Jon explains, “You can tickle away and nobody – nobody knows what’s going on.”

“I don’t mind if people see me tickling Alex.” Greg shifts in his throne, probative hands proving his point with ease as they skim across his colleague’s belly.

Alex's voice hits a higher pitch, “I am very ticklish.” His smile nearly bursts into a giggle as frenetic fingers slip beneath his jacket to dance down his sides.

“Yeah!” Greg exclaims giddily.

The contestants chuckle, as does the audience.

Greg leans back, amused by Alex’s attempt to bury his very obvious initial reaction beneath this unconvincing veneer of morose discomfort.

As the studio lights continue to beat down, causing a never ending beading of sweat upon his brow, he found it was becoming increasingly difficult to stay focused on the filming. You see, Greg always delighted in discovering something new about a sub, and then spent days dreaming up dozens of depraved ways to better explore it, and to exploit it of course - but all that would have to wait -

_Until after the recording, that is …_

Alex is just hanging up his jacket for the day when Greg dips his head under the doorframe, barging into his cramped, cluttered office. He startles at the sight of him, his body now blocking much of the of room’s only exit.

“That was no act just now. You really are that ticklish, _aren’t you?_ ”

Alex tries to scoff it off and snorts, “No.” A nervous smile takes him over as he watches that familiar sneer creep across Greg’s features. He advances on him. Incrementally. Alex begins to backpedal. “I’m definitely not.”

“You sure about that? Because what I just saw out there seemed _pretty genuine_. I think you really are that ticklish – and you just don’t want me to know anything about it. Understandable - but you really oughta know better by now, no? Never lie to me, Alex. Because I _will_ find out. And I _will_ use it against you.”

In this tiny hallway of an office, Alex’s back soon finds the wall.

“So … ” Precious inches of personal space disappear as Greg closes in all around him. “Wanna change your answer?”

“No - because I'm really not? ”Alex mutters in a small, fractured voice even he isn’t convinced by.

 _“Ohhh, I see, because you’re really not?”_ Greg mocks. “Well - that’s too bad, innit – because I don’t think - I've ever heard you have a real good giggle, Alex. Not once. And I feel like we were just so close to hearing one earlier, a real good one, _weren’t we?_ ” Greg’s fingers dart back into his arm pits, down his sides, tickling away with a childish amusement as Alex tries unsuccessfully to slip from his clutches. “Do you fucking love it, or hate it, hmm? Bit of both? _Oh!_ We're getting real close now, aye? For fuck's sake stop fighting it and just let it go, Alex, because I am not gonna let up until I hear a real -”

Giggles erupt from an increasingly annoyed Alex, his eyes defying his demeanor. “G-G-Greg d-d-don’t - the door is – the door’s still – c-c-c’mon quit - ” he manages amongst involuntary laughter, “Quit it!”

“That’s it, mate - knew you had it in you.” Alex tries to compose himself, but Greg dives in for a second round. “Best make sure it wasn’t just a fluke though, aye.”

“No, no, no, no, no – s-s-stop – stop - leave me alo-o-o-a-haha-plea-plea-please don’t AHAHAahaha - just – GREG - ” His giggles morph into high-pitched hysterics, “Cu-cu-cut it – cut it out - c'mon I said - f-fha-fhahaha-f-f-F-FUck off, Greg.”

He ceases, entirely swapping silly for stern in a matter of milliseconds, and barks, “What did you just say to me?!”

“Sorry,” he sighs, attempting to garner a little sympathy. “It’s just – it's open.”

“Right." He stalks to the door, closes it carefully and turns. “Now – what did you just say – go on, repeat it to me.”

“I said – but come on, I didn’t mean it Greg, it just came out because you - ” His complexion pales in real time. “ – I said - I said – fck ff, Grg.” He mumbles over the relevant words.

“One more time?! Loud and clear, so all can hear.”

“I said - fuck off, Greg.” He stated it plainly this time, but with an unmistakable air of resignation to his tone.

 _“Tsk, tsk, tsk.”_ He shakes his head derisively and moves back to where Alex still stood, against the wall, exactly how he had left him. “That’s what I was afraid of.” He leans back and bends his head to the side with roving eyes that threaten to eat him alive. “Such a shame, innit? Not quite as well trained as we thought, are you?” Alex shakes his head.

“Nooo … ” With a slow, deliberate force he presses him against the wall, pinning him by one hefty hand, and whispers, his voice like gravel against his ear, “That sort of behaviour is simply unacceptable, Alex – and I think you know it.” Greg could feel his resolve melt away and his body begin to puddle beneath him. It was all an energies game to Alex, the right tone of voice and the proper glint to your gaze and he’d happily eat from your palm in public. “Suppose I'll have to teach you how to better control those impulses of yours, hmm? Normally, you’re so polite. Composed. So how _did_ that manage to slip, aye? _You all pent up?_ ” Alex was half hard at the heat of his voice in his ear. “Need a visit to mine, maybe?” A small whimper escapes him as Greg pulls back. “See, only problem is - I don’t make it a habit of hosting rude little boys – and there is _never_ any excuse - ”

“But it’s just that you - ”

Greg quickly cups a palm across his mouth, surprised to have been cut off, but especially by Alex of all people. “There is _never any excuse_ for using that sort of language with me. Besides, I use more than enough for the both of us.” His hand falls away, the other keeping him pressed firmly against the wall, he laughs lightly, and shakes his head, still caught out by Alex’s gall, but also - at the sheer luck – to be simply handed an excuse to do your absolute worst. He purrs as he takes his throat in hand, “And as for interrupting me just now … ” Alex winces. “You can expect a formal punishment for that one. I don’t know exactly what’s gotten into you today, _Alex_ – but we’ll soon sort you out.” There is an immediate, evident sense of loss as Greg’s fingers leave his frame. “Be outside my house in two hours, yeah. No excuses.”

_One hour and fifty four minutes later …_

The drive had become quite familiar. He parked behind Greg’s car as he always did. Small stones shifting under shoe. Up the steps and turning heel he stands once more before the box. Off come his shoes. His jacket. His watch. He spins his wedding ring in place and smiles wistfully as he exchanges his items for the collar in the unlocked box. He could already feel himself sinking, both mentally and physically, into position before the large cherry wood door. He couldn’t have been on his knees longer than a minute before the door swung open, he stirred, a little surprised, in that quite often Greg would make him wait rather long like this.

“Up you get. Inside.” He points to the closet in the sitting room. “Get dressed. No jacket for today. And make it snappy!” Alex peels off his studio suit and pulls on his uniform all under Greg’s watchful gaze. He takes a knee to tie the laces of his red leather shoes, never loving them any less every time he got to wear them. As he gets back to his feet, he is grasped by the chin and inspected closely. It was always a more powerful experience when inside Greg’s house - these examinations – Greg's calm, even breathing seemed to slow his own heart rate, his soft searching hands, the energy he evoked during these moments was entirely subsuming. Finally seeming satisfied, Greg points past him. “Kitchen.” He makes an indication for Alex to go first and stalks close behind him.

Not sure what to expect, Alex cautiously turns the corner into the kitchen to find it looking – normal. Quite clean already, nothing seemed out of place or out of the ordinary. He looks back at Greg, who motions toward the island. Alex walks over to its far side where a cutting board, knife, apron and recipe have been neatly arranged.

“You’ve started injecting bits of our relationship into the show this season. Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Alex slips the apron over his neck. “I don’t really see the harm, sir. Would you like me to stop?”

“No.” Greg grasps the long ties that dangle by his legs and pulls them into a tidy bow, his hands lingering briefly along the small of his back. “Just want you to be aware of what you’re getting yourself into, that’s all.”

“Oh, I'm - very aware, but thank you, Greg – sir.”

“You really _don’t_ mind, _do you?_ ” He smiles curiously, “You even let me tickle you in front of everyone today.”

“I think we both know I'd let you do a lot worse than that. The studio is _limiting_ , but I think we can push the humiliation stuff pretty far before we’d hear about it from Andy, or Andy. I have a few ideas.”

Greg is rather taken aback by this brashness, as _bold_ wasn’t something Alex could often be described as.

“Careful, mate. Or the contestants may start doing your work for you. Only two seasons in and Richardson had you pegged.”

“Well, it didn’t take Katherine long to play you like a fiddle.”

“True. The Lord shit really cinched it. It actually did give me a fucking boner!”

“I know … I have quite a good view. Pretty sure your leg cross saved it – sir.”

“You’re quite chatty this evening! Yeah, too chatty, actually.” He raps his fist on the island. “You’ve got work to do, get to it.” He sits down at the dinner table and starts flipping through his phone as Alex reviews the recipe before him. It was for a Thai Green Curry, a dish that he had enjoyed many times before but never ventured to make himself. “Rachel’s coming for dinner,” Greg says offhandedly, “And we wouldn’t want to disappoint _her, now would we?_ ”

Alex’s ears perk at the mention of his wife, and he looks to Greg to gauge whether or not he was simply fucking with him. “Rachel’s really coming? Here?”

“Any minute now I suspect.”

Alex beams, then bites at his lower lip.

“And I expect you to be on your very best behaviour, Alex. Especially after that shit you pulled earlier.”

“Yes, sir. I absolutely will be.”

He arranges the ingredient list neatly on the island in front of him: _Three chicken breasts are placed directly on the cutting board. Then a can of coconut milk, a bag of Basmati and the naan are plucked from the pantry._

Alex loved cooking for Greg because the man so enjoyed a solid homemade meal, but couldn’t for the life of him make a decent one. Greg ate like he fucked – quite audibly - and with all sorts of grateful groans and sated sighs sprinkled throughout. Sometimes there were even a few kind, or complimentary words between bites.

_He returns from the spice cabinet with hands full; cumin, coriander, turmeric, black peppercorns and sea salt. He pinches two cloves of garlic from the bulb, grabs a ginger root, and spanks a single stalk of lemongrass across the counter's edge._

He loved cooking for Rachel too, just – for very different reasons. She was herself a phenomenal cook, but as a working, mother of three, almost never got a night off. He always felt better knowing she could enjoy some much needed, and appreciated, time for herself and was forever trying to impress her with something new, or to spoil her with a favourite, done exactly the way she preferred it.

_From the fridge it was everything else, and all of it green - fresh cilantro sprigs, a lime, some scallions, Thai green chillies and Kaffir lime leaves._

He begins by prepping the scallions and chillies. Long, thin cuts on the diagonal. He zests the lime. Fragrant, intoxicating aromas fill the room, permeating the air.

“Alex … c’mere a minute.”

He rounds the island toward the dinner table, a bit tentatively, “Yes, sir?”

“This bit of the floor, right along here – it’s quite dirty, yeah? You'll need to scrub it down and sanitize it.”

Alex looks down at the tiles with confusion. They seemed spotless, or at the very least, this section didn’t look any less clean than the rest of the floor.

Greg looks up from his phone, with a threatening face that startles him from distraction, “Now!?”

Reasons no longer seeming very necessary, he fetches some paper towel, spray sanitizer and a bowl of soapy water with a cloth and gets down on hands and knees to scrub down the specified section. He did allow himself a few brief glances at Greg’s shoes while he washed, wanting to fully appreciate his current predicament, but also careful not to be accused of any indulgence. He wipes down the tiles and then spritzes the spot with sanitizer. Greg stares down blankly, and yet, seems to approve, in that he doesn’t insult the job, or demand any further cleaning. Alex swiftly stows the cleaning stuff away under the sink and gets stuck back in to dinner.

He puts a pan on high heat and begins to chunk up the chicken. The doorbell rings. Alex looks up, knife in mid slice.

“Keep going. I'll get it.”

He continues with the knife, but tilts his ear and stretches out, trying to eavesdrop on their greetings from down the hallway. He couldn’t make out anything beyond vaguely pleased, welcoming tones. He drizzles some oil into the pan, swirls it to coat the bottom and adds the chicken chunks. They sizzle, drowning out all other sound. He turns to get some tongs and – there she is – simply stunning, as always.

“Hi, sweetie.” She kisses his cheek. “Isn’t it nice of Greg to have us over for dinner like this?”

“Yes?” He turns back to the pan and turns the seared pieces over to brown on the other side.

“Greg keeps you quite the busy little bee, aye? I like your outfit.” Her hands rub roughly along the backs of his thighs then up and over his ass, she tugs playfully at the apron’s bow as she rests her chin on the inner curve of his shoulder blade, pert nipples hard against his back. “So, what is it we’re having here, busy bee?” Her fingers feel out his collar, familiar with this one by Alex’s description alone.

“Greg’s chosen a Green Thai curry. Rice. Naan. It should take me about another hour, I think. You look – lovely. How was your day?”

“Steadily improving.”

He pulls the seared meat to a separate bowl, turns down the heat and begins to crush the dried spices in a mortar and pestle. “Can I get you a drink while you wait? Water? Wine? Greg’s picked two bottles here you might like.” He tosses the spices into the pan to toast.

“And which one of these two - do you think I _would_ like?” Alex smiles knowingly and nudges one forward. “I'm picky.” She shrugs, moving to stand alongside Greg. “And Alex here – he just knows me so well.”

As he rips off large handfuls of herbs and adds them to the mortar, his face flashes hot. He pulverizes the lot into a paste.

“Three glasses, Alex, but first - finish whatever it is you’re doing there – smells fucking fantastic.”

“I’m muddling the herbs - it’s uh - _three, sir?_ ”

“Yeah, you can join us for a drink - if you'd like to – you have worked all day, and you are making the entire meal. I'm not a monster.”

“Certainly not, sir.”

Alex douses the toasted spices with coconut milk on his way to the cupboard. Steam shoots up, creating a small cloud that dissipates as he grabs the glasses down.

“Just like a well oiled machine, aye?”

“I told you – he can be very efficient.”

“I know it must seem like I work your poor boy there to the bone, and I do keep him fairly busy, most of the time, but you should also know - he earns himself plenty of treats, too.”

“Oh, believe me Greg – I have _no complaints_ about the way you handle him. Really. Quite the contrary.”

Alex uncorks the bottle and pours three even glasses.

Rachel holds hers high. “Congrats, boys! To the end of another series, and the beginning of your next.”

Greg and Alex pick up their glasses. “To _you_ Rachel, thanks for coming out last minute like this to help us celebrate, properly – it’s never the same without you.”

“Cheers, Greg.” Rachel tinks his glass. They each take a sip from their glass, whilst drinking the other in.

“Alex,” they coo, simultaneously turning to tink his glass.

He takes a sip, but they instead slide their glasses down and jump in for a tickle, each to their own arm pit. Wine dribbles from the sides of his mouth, leaving a red trail down his neck and collar. He smiles wildly, despite actively struggling to get away, and then – suddenly – gives in to the giggle, “Aaahahaha, mmm-hmm – heeheehaha – aahaha -hahaha-o-o-mmm-m-my-fff-f-f-fu-fuuuck.”

Greg grabs him by the chin, “What was that!?” His jest tinged with actual disbelief.

“Sorry,” he squeaks.

“Now _that_ would have been an acceptable choice,” Greg chides.

“Name another?” She pinches him – hard.

“Thank you, Sir. Thank you, Mistress,” he hisses.

“Good.” She releases her hold.

“Back to work, Alex.”

To be a fly on the wall – what so many secretly fantasized of – to observe two people in the throes of an intimate moment, and be rendered essentially invisible, your presence not acknowledged in the least – able to just _be_. He watches over the sauce, adds his bashed up herbs and seasons it to taste. He puts the rice on to boil and preheats the oven for the naan and in between all these finishing touches, he sips at his wine and watches, as Greg and Rachel talk and flirt at the table in front of him; smiling, laughing, playing footsie and occasionally reaching out to touch one another, the two of them, together, just - _being_.

Completely drowned out. Their words were lost to the ever accumulating sounds emanating from the kitchen. It was like watching a foreign film which had no subtitles. Though the specifics of a conversation may be lost on the viewer, it was always surprising just how much one could make out from gestures and energies alone. The feelings and emotions shared between two people often carried much more weight than one would suspect. And one thing came across clearer than anything else. Love. As they touched and talked Alex thought about how much he loved them both, and of this beautiful, unforeseen revelation, that they now also loved each other.

He removes his apron, folds it neatly and serves up three portions, mindful to create a beautiful presentation on the plate before proceeding to the table. There are _oohs_ and _aahs_ , but they had eyes only for the food and each other, it was as if the meals had just magically appeared before them.

“Good choice, Greg. Smells amazing – and well within his wheelhouse.”

“It’s one of my favourites – so he better not have fucked it.”

“Points for presentation.”

Alex returns with his own plate to find Rachel had stretched out slightly, her feet now resting atop the third chair that sat between them. He sets his wine glass down, then his cutlery, still, neither seem to notice. Clutching his plate with both hands he looks to Greg who, with mouth full, manages only to emit a guttural groan somewhere into the depths of his dinner. He turns to Rachel, she smiles, savouring a small bite before dismissively indicating to the tiles. As earlier concerns over floor cleanliness now became readily apparent, Alex sinks to his knees with his beautifully constructed curry plate, comforting himself, that at least he knew it would still be tasty.

He sets the plate down carefully.

“No hands now, Alex.” He tames a wince at her tone.

“And while we’re at it, no plates either.” Greg yanks the dish away, its contents splattering onto the floor in front of him. A momentary devastation washes over him, but he quickly recovers his sense of poise. It did, luckily, just skim off and still looked _mostly_ delicious. And after all, he did know how very clean the surface was.

About to lean in for his first bite, Greg jeers, “Oh, look who didn’t finish all his wine.” He pours it, from a height, onto the pile of curry. Its red stain soaks into much of the meal and spatters up across Alex’s face and shirt. “There we go.” He can no longer hide the obvious wrinkle of his nose, his shoulders slump with disappointment, the pleased noises resounding from above his only consolation.

Rachel presses her foot between his shoulder blades, urging him forward until he collapses onto all fours, his hands landing on either side of this sloppy, tainted mess. “Come on, dear, dig in, _don’t be rude._ ” She delivers one strong spank across his ass.

He looks up. Greg's gaze is penetrating, entrancing even. “Enjoy it, mate.” He takes another forkful and smirks at Rachel, “I know I am.”

Alex begins to nibble away at the grains of rice along the edges, the ones that had managed to avoid the flood. Then he gobbled up a few choice pieces of chicken that seemed relatively unscathed. The rest, the vast majority, was thoroughly soaked at this point – _dinner was turning out to be a real slog._

“He nailed it. The sauce is exactly right. Just the way I like it. Absolutely delicious – do you like it, Rach?”

“Mmm - it is rather good, innit? Silky, smooth – all the flavours really come through too – it’s punchy. And I like the sear on the chicken.”

“Yeah, I mean – happy accidents, right - he’s turned out to be quite the little cook - _ever better._ ”

“You know … it wasn’t until a few weeks ago that I really started notice it, that the more time he spends here, with you, the better I seem to eat.”

“He teaches himself all those things. You know I wouldn’t have a clue how to make any of it. I just keep throwing harder and harder shit at him - and sure, he falters a bit here and there - but he never seems to fail me.”

“I know the feeling.”

Alex was so hungry, he also knew he’d have to put some kind of dent in this mess if he didn’t want to be sitting there the rest of the night so he did his very best to ignore the awful wetness, tried not to breathe in through his nose and managed to force down a bit more. He could hear cutlery scraping plates. He gagged a bit more back. Thinking of them at the table above, finishing off their lovingly prepared meal and enjoying themselves immensely, at his expense - he wasn’t sure how much more of this mess he could stomach.

“You all finished down there?”

Alex nods, not wanting to look up from the shameful amount he had left at their feet.

“Oh, c’mon Alex, usually you have a better appetite than that. You can really pack it away - for such a skinny little sod.” Greg pushes his chair back and crosses his legs, “What d’ya think Rachel, do you think I’m being too harsh on him tonight?”

She sips her wine and leans back in her chair. “I’m sure you’ve got your reasons, Greg.”

“Fucking right I do. He’s been a foul-mouthed little liar today – and then - to top it all off, he _interrupted me._ ”

Hand to heart, Rachel embellishes a sarcastic gasp of mock shock. “Sometimes he can be a bit of brat, can't he? It’s usually only when he really wants something though, no … _needs_ something – was this all you needed today sweetie, have you been just aching to serve us, hmm - bottom out a bit, has it been too long, d'you need a little reminder? You’ve gotta admit it, Greg, even when he fucks up, or – _falters_ \- he's still always trying so hard to please you. And me.”

“She's right. You do work very hard, don’t you? And all that was _earlier, aye?_ Got a ways to go still, but - you've been slowly making it up to me, _haven’t you?_ I don’t know, maybe he has earned a bit of a treat, yeah?”

Alex gulps.

“C’mere.” He scoots past the mess to sit at Greg’s side. “I’ve got a few leftovers here, and since you’ve been trying _so hard_ to be good ... ”

He wraps a little morsel of chicken in naan and drenches it in sauce – hand curated bites. “Go on – open up - you greedy little slut.”

When Greg’s fingers weren’t slowly sliding in and out of his mouth, Alex was eagerly awaiting his next taste of them. Rachel shifts in her chair and smiles with kind eyes as she dips the corner of a napkin into her water glass and leans down to wipe away some wine spatter from his cheeks, and some sauce that had collected from the tip of his nose. Greg gifts him another bite. The curry was cold by now of course, but it didn’t matter – the delivery made it that much more delicious. It brought Alex such a sense of peace to be fed, cleaned – _cared for_ like this.

“Last piece. So try and savour it.” Greg pets him gently, soothingly as Alex sucks the remaining sauce from his fingers with an appreciative smack of the lips. Rachel's smile grows with each drawn out gesture.

“Good boy … ” They all spend a few minutes digesting their meals, sharing in the comfortable silence, before Greg leans forward, resting his chin atop Alex’s crown. “Well - now that we’ve all just enjoyed a lovely meal, I think it’s about time for that punishment, yeah?”

Alex blurts, “You mean that wasn't - ” He quickly corrects himself, but can’t help the sarcasm which edges in, “Sorry, sir, mistress. I’m ready for whatever _further_ punishment you deem suitable.”

“ _Alex!_ Cheeky little bugger.” He thrusts his body back to all fours, this time landing the other side of his half eaten mess. “Clean it up,” Greg growls, an evil grin beginning to spread across Rachel’s face, “Along with the rest of this fucking shit – and _don’t dawdle._ When you’re finished – it’s straight to the dungeon, yeah? Bare feet – you know the drill. Rachel, if you’d like to accompany me – it’s just this way.” He watches their shoes click across the tiles as they traipse by his fallen frame.

_Quickly, but thoroughly, he cleans the floor, the dishes, the countertops – until everything sparkles. Once it was all back to its proper place, he knew it was time for him to be put back into his …_

Alex removes his shoes and socks and places them neatly outside Greg’s open bedroom door. He shuffles inside to find the interior door to the dungeon also open. With a deep breath in, he tip toes forward - crosses over the threshold – and is immediately grasped by four savage hands. They push and pull.

“I knew he wouldn’t make us wait too long,” Rachel squeals. She pinches his cheek and rips his shirt from its neat tuck.

“Of course not, the desperate little fuck.”

He can feel Greg behind him, undoing his belt, his fly. Forcing his trousers and pants down over his hips. They fall around his ankles. “Now, _stay_ ,” Greg warns, wandering off somewhere behind him.

Rachel slowly unbuttons his wine speckled shirt, she pushes it from his shoulders and slides it down his arms. Fingers find their way beneath his undershirt, her hands push up, against his chest and slip it over his head. She tosses it aside, lightly grazing her nails down his back as she kisses a line from belly to inner thigh. As she stands, a stray hand caresses his growing erection. “Getting excited already, I see.” She takes a few steps back. “That’s very good.”

Greg returns, three strands of rope in hand, and begins to circle him, exuding an unmistakably predatory energy that causes Alex to cower slightly under his scrutiny.

“Let’s have a good look at him, aye. _Ooo-oooh!_ No marks at the moment? That’s a bit of a bonus – such a nice, blank canvas like this – all _ripe_ for a proper fucking up, hmm. It's been a bit - since we’ve last got to play - you must be just absolutely gagging for it by now, yeah?”

He backs toward the door. “Good idea, Greg.” Old wood creaks as he wheels it closed. Metal clanks. “Wouldn’t want to upset your neighbours, and something tells me it’s about to get quite deafening in here.”

“You know, you’re right, Rach.” Greg hooks a finger through his collar. “He simply will not be able to control himself .” He escorts him to a nearby bench, it was black and firmly padded. He pats the cushion, “Knees.” Alex quickly perches himself atop it. “Further forward.” He shuffles. “Further … yeah, just like that.” Alex’s feet hang off the back, his soles exposed, ankles braced by its pillowy leather. Greg rubs and squeezes at his toes.

“Wrists.” He twists his torso with arms extended, offering his wrists in the proper pose to assist the tying. “Good boy.” Greg drapes a length of rope across his outstretched wrists. “Rachel, would you care to pick out something _fun_ from the wall there, this is gonna take me a minute.”

She looks over, giddy at the prospects. “Uh, yes please!”

“Something that'll provide a good contrast for him.”

“I already had my eye on a couple. It's an impressive collection you’ve got here, so much selection, and _really quality_ pieces - shouldn’t be too hard to find something suitable – _oooh_ … ”

Greg and Alex share a small smile as they listen to Rachel’s growing excitement over the toy wall. He finishes the final knot, both wrists expertly bound together. “How does that feel?” He pinches his fingertips and dips a pinky finger between rope and wrists.

“ _Nice_ \- sir. It feels - nice.” Greg could tell right away from the waver to his whisper that he was well gone.

“That’s right. Nice and tight.” He slowly coaxes his body into a downward facing dog position and threads the tail of the rope through a ring at the front of the table. “We can’t have you going anywhere on us, now can we? And pretty soon – I mean, you are going to try to get away, Alex, you’re gonna pull, tug, struggle to get free, but you will not be going anywhere, _do you understand?_ See - I’m being real nice, hmm, making this so easy on you – because _this_ \- ” He pulls it snugly into position and ties off the rope. “- _ensures_ that you comply, whether you think you can - or not - you will _stay_ – right – here - for as long as we both wanna play.”

Rachel returns with a dragon tail whip and a sadistic grin. “ _Oooh_ \- good choice. Very you,” Greg flirts.

She lays it across his forearms just above his bondage. “See what I picked out for you, sweetie - what d’you say?”

“Thank you, mistress.”

“He’s gonna love it, the little pain slut. It _really bites_ \- _just right_ \- and if memory serves me, he hasn’t had the pleasure thus far.” He holds up a length of rope. “Alex tells me you've got a knack for knots – lend me a hand?” She snatches it with a smirk and they each start in on an ankle. Greg watches the way she chooses to tie off and mimics it on the other side. Each ankle is securely fastened to the table’s edge, feet hanging off the back, soles facing outward.

Once fully bound he could feel his mind start it’s sweet descent – down, down - sinking, total relaxation spreading throughout his entire body, his being. It was pure bliss – here at the bottom.

“He looks nice like that.” Greg squats down to his level. “You've really been asking for it today, _haven’t you, Alex?”_

“Yes, sir.”

“He can do better than that,” Rachel insists. “Come on now, we wanna hear all about it. Entertain us a little!”

“Yes, mistress, I – I've been _really_ asking for it today – _all day_.”

“That’s right. And …”

“I just can’t help myself. I try so hard to be good, but – I can’t help it - I need you both to make me better. I want – I _need_ to be better – for both of you - you deserve so much more.”

“So much _more_ … ?” Greg smiles strangely.

“So much more _than_ … ?” Rachel prompts, and ponders.

“You both deserve so much more than - a foul-mouthed little liar like me - an impolite – needy - _weakling_ that requires your almost constant correction. You deserve more than – more than the very most I can possibly give you.”

“That’s what you think, is it?”

He nods.

“You don’t think you do - quite a lot for us already?”

“I could always do more.”

“True … but - I need you to understand this, Alex, okay – this is important - _perfection_ is an unattainable goal, one which we forever reach for, and never achieve. See, I will _always_ find something to catch you up on because I enjoy punishing you, and you enjoy _me making you better, yeah_ \- so in _that_ way, I agree with you, your possibilities for improvement seem _infinite_. Know this though, lost causes don’t warrant my corrections – it’s a waste of my very valuable time – I reserve all this - discipline, punishments – _my attention_ \- for star pupils only.

She squats down and strokes his cheek. “You all set, sweetie?” He sniffles, then nods.

Their eyes meet and speak, without words, in that way Greg had noticed the first time and loved ever since. There was a true intimacy between them, anyone who spent even seconds with them could sense it. Greg gives them some space, allowing them their private moment - he liked to think that at this point he and Alex were developing their own sweet, little shared gestures like that - he hoped Alex had noticed too, that he felt the same - and made a mental note to ask him about it later.

Greg returns with a small box. Rachel stands, she smiles up at him sweetly, one hand resting on his lower back, the other scratching slow fingers back and forth across his belly. “So - what’s gonna be the thing, aye? The thing that's gonna make him crumble to pieces before us, that’s gonna have him begging me to stop?”

Rachel pulls the whips length slowly across his arms. “It certainly won’t be this, will it Greg? I mean - this is gonna _fucking sting_ , probably leave a few good marks too, but - he'll love all that.”

“We know all about you, Alex, and we know _exactly_ what’s gonna be the thing, that drives you crazy and makes you finally lose all control – it’s what’s inside this box.” He holds it close to his chest, drumming his fingers across the top before opening the lid to reveal three items. One by one he lays them on the table in front of Alex. The first is a feather, the second, a fine tip paint brush, and lastly, a small machine, with a glass rod attached by a thick rubber cord.

“This is gonna be a whole other kind of painful for you, Alex. I can tell already how much you’re gonna hate it,” Greg sneers.

“So we'll offset it, okay.” Rachel slings a strong bite from the whip. He inhales sharply. “With the kind of pain a slut like you enjoys.” She begins to hit a steady, slow rhythm of strikes with the dragon tail across his ass.

Greg brandishes the feather – light, little grazes of his skin – down the bridge of his nose, along the back of his neck and running the line of his spine. He shivers and breathes out slowly - already unevenly.

“I can see perfectly well why you didn’t want me to know you’re this ticklish. Because someone like me – well, I tend to use something like that against you, yeah, someone like me who knows very well how to take something as silly as tickling and transform it - into something absolutely tortuous for you, yeah?”

His hairs stand on end, every nerve in his body is on high alert, mind dialed in.

Greg makes random flicks and drags with the feather; behind his knees, along his taint, travelling to the very tips of his toes. “Pretty soon, the giggles are gonna get you, they’ll take you over completely - you will not be able to control yourself - but I'll know - what you'll really be experiencing - on the inside. It’ll be quite the opposite.” The feather finds its way just behind his ear, along his hairline, causing him to buck and pull at the ropes. As promised, there was not much wiggle room. He could feel his ribs beginning to give way to the giggle. Another whip strike smarts, and a certain frustration begins to set in, like having a million ants crawling across your body, while a bee stings you over and over again - at random – painful diversions from a more constant, and accumulating irritation.

Greg sets the feather back in its place. “That was level one.” He shows him the finely tipped paint brush. “This - is level two,” he says sweetly, tracing the invisible number onto his palm. There is a break in the whip strikes as Greg begins to barely graze his soles with the brush’s tip, in long arduous lines. Muscles clench. Ropes dig in. Alex cries out nonsensically and struggles to free his feet as true hysteria takes hold of him. He watches him closely, making sure he doesn’t begin to hyperventilate. The ropes resist his spastic movements, they dig deeper into his flesh as he fights to suppress the feelings of anger and distress that threaten to be his undoing. His laughter turns maniacal, it sounds strained, pained, as mind gives in to body and then together, scream out for a stop to it all.

“Hey … what’s all this?” Greg feels out Alex’s growing erection. "We must be about ready to move on, then, aye? Is it time for level three?”

He doesn’t answer right away, unsure if he could handle anything worse, but desperately wanting an end to this particular torture.

Greg delivers one strong spank across his ass. “Answer me when I ask you a question – is it time for level three, Alex?”

“Yes, sir. I'm – ready – for level three. Thank you.”

“Rachel, could you get the lights? I’ve been told level three is far more impressive in the dark.” There was the distinct hum of electricity as Greg turned a dial on the small machine. The tube in his hand sparks yellow, and then orange, in flashes. There is a mix of fear and confusion which conflate upon Alex’s face. The room goes black, bolts of blue and purple contained within the glass tube crackle away. The electric buzz grows louder. His eyes go wide, throat runs dry.

“Let’s light him up, shall we?” Alex can feel the electricity starting to jump to his skin, little by little as Greg inches the rod ever closer.

“No, no, no, no, no … ” Greg zaps him in the side, he yelps, a childishly giddy smile erupting across his face as he tries desperately to tear himself from the table . A nervous, anxious fear builds up, and with it, a return to the giggles. These electric jolts that shot through him, they didn’t hurt, they were like extreme static shocks, unpredictably intense, sharp and hard to anticipate. He could feel the path arc from tube to skin, crackling as bolt met flesh. Greg shot a line down his side. A direct zap to his arm pit, his belly button and then - his nipples - it was all downhill from there. He had been laughing so long and so consistently now his ribs were becoming painful. His eyes were watering. It was maddening, but even more maddening was his ever present, now throbbing erection.

“This looks fairly painful.” Greg lowers the voltage and runs the tubes tip along Alex’s shaft. He strains against the ropes. “You _really_ need to come, don’t you? Can you not- at level three – is the electricity just too distracting for you - do we need to go back down to a one, to see if our little guy here can come?”

Alex nods frantically out of desperation. Greg turns the machine off and reaches for the feather. Rachel returns to the dragon tail, upping the tempo this time around.

“ _Oh!_ I think he’s trying to say something. What was that!? Speak up, slut, we can’t hear you over all that blubbering.”

“Please.” He squeaks. Emotionally drained, welling eyes threatening to burst.

“Please!? That’s a new one. Please, what, you pathetic little shit?” Greg focuses the feather on the head of his cock, in slow circles. He was rock hard, starting to throb and dance between his legs. “Please … touch my cock? Please … make me come? Please, stop?” The whip strikes cease. Greg and his feather, do not.

His senses were firing on overload. “Please – I can’t - ”

“You can.” Rachel reassures him, massaging out his clenched up hands and fingers.

“And you fucking will.”

“With gusto.”

“And grace. Go on. Get there - if you even can. We certainly won’t be helping you. This is a punishment, Alex. If you’re gonna get there it'll be from this - and this alone.”

Greg continues with small circles of the feather's tip around the head of his cock, teasing, lightly tickling a line along its underside, until amidst a sea of please and thank yous, Alex comes, with one last violent convulsion.

Nerves now peaked, he squirms at the slightest touch of their fingers. Greg whispers, “Easy, now,” as he unties his wrists, Rachel his ankles, his body slowly softening in their hands. “Good boy … yeah, that’s it. Your bit's all over now, mate - so you can just _relax hmm_ \- and enjoy the rest of the show.”

Rachel tilts his head to the side, temple to table. “Stay.”

She takes Greg’s hand and escorts him to a tiered bench located only a few feet away. He helps her atop it, her knees resting on a lower shelf, she bends at the waist and drapes herself across the main body of the piece.

Greg rubs rough hands along the backs of her thighs and coos, “ _I like your outfit.”_ He pushes her skirt up and over her ass, mimicking her actions to Alex earlier. She looks back with a cheeky smile. “So, what is it we’re having here, _hmm?”_ He chuckles. “I mean – I have a few good guesses, but I'd rather hear it from you, love.”

“Spank me, Greg. Spank me so hard. Show that useless fuck what a woman like me needs, mmm, what I let a real man do.” He begins with one swift blow to each cheek, she yelps, “Thank you, Greg.” Then he goes in for the double – clapping out spanks, both hands working in tandem. “Yeah … look at him – just so weak.”

“He is - a weakling - by his own description. Pathetic.”

He rotates in some painful down strokes with some lighter undercuts, always returning back to that consistent clapping spank.

“Yeah … _oooh_ – Greg, you’re so good with - those hands – that rhythm mmm - that makes me so fucking wet.”

“Does it now? Well - I'll be needing to see some proof of that, Miss Horne.

A few more swats and Rachel is panting. “I think - the evidence – mmm - more than speaks for itself.” She begins to drip down her leg.

Greg drags a finger along its silken trail. “Lovely. Let’s go and give our boy a tiny taste of what he’s been missing out on, yeah?” Greg lifts her up, turns her around, pulls her closely and slides her body down his, nose carving a line up through her centre. He captures her lips in a kiss just as her feet touch the floor. They move back to Alex.

Greg runs a finger though her wet slit and proceeds to paint Alex’s lips with it. “Go on, have a taste.” He licks and sucks it off gratefully.

“You see what Greg does to me, baby? Do you wish you had that kind of power, the kind I have over you?” She feels out the shape of Greg’s massive erection through his pants, undoing his button and fly enough to free the strain. She squats down, her eyes level with both Alex and Greg’s cock.

“May I?”

“I was kinda hoping you might.”

She holds him up, laps and licks from balls to tip. “It’s so big, sweetie, how _does_ a little thing like you manage to take all this, hmm?” She sucks at the head, swirling her tongue around the tip causing Greg to emit a low growl. He bites his lip reminding himself to be restrained. She pushes her lips down the shaft, slowly taking more and more of him.

“How badly he must wanna be me right now.” Greg utters.

Rachel pulls free just enough to tease, “I think he’s having trouble deciding which one of us he'd rather be.”

Greg laughs lightly, as she takes him down again, deeper, he runs a hand through Alex’s hair. “That’s true, innit. Do you like to watch us? Up close - _like this?_ Do you like to see your wife get everything she wants – everything she needs – from a real man?” Alex nods. “Yeah … ” Greg pats him on the head.

“Actually, there's just one more thing I need.”

_“Is that so?”_

Greg pulls her to her feet. He kisses her deeply. “This time … ” He spins her around and bends her across Alex’s back. “I don’t think I'll be needing any guesses.” His buckle hits cement. “I know what you want - what you _need_.” Greg gives her just the tip. “You want me to fill you all up? Shall we turn that drip into a downpour, dear? How hungry is this hole for the rest of me, hmm? Tell me.”

With each word she spoke he pushed a little further “Ravenous. Voracious.” Further. “Fill me up. Fuck me, Greg – feed my hungry little hole.” Further. “I want you to fuck me so hard Alex'll feel it.” And then he was all the way in.

Alex could feel Rachel hold her breath as she adjusted to the sheer girth of Greg. He lay limp beneath her, his muscles over strained, appreciating every moment of their pleasure that they allowed him to share in. He could feel Greg begin to slowly fuck her, gradually increasing his tempo and force – incrementally – for quite some time – until finally Rachel tensed, cried out and came, causing Greg to finish - in two final thrusts.

_Greg disappears, leaving Alex and his wife to have a moment’s recovery. Rachel cradles Alex close, their breathing in unison. Greg returns after a few moments_.

“Would The Hornes care to join me in the hot tub? Come on – let’s all go and have a good long soak, yeah. Everything’s all ready.

“This one may need a little assistance getting there.”

“I’ve got him, love. Why don’t you get a head start on us.” Rachel presses a kiss to Alex’s forehead and slips his heavy head from her lap as she hops down from the table. She gives Greg’s arm a small squeeze before taking her leave. Greg strokes Alex’s shoulder, then his back. “C’mon, mate. Up we get. This'll feel real nice, okay, you need this right now.” Alex shifts slightly as Greg’s hands slip under the bulk of his frame, easily lifting him and carrying him out of the dungeon. Alex nuzzles his head against his hand, stretches his neck to gently kiss his palm, and sighs. Genuinely touched by the gesture, Greg squeezes him tighter to his body and smiles, realizing his earlier question for Alex was no longer necessary. These small, intimate rituals – an unspoken tenderness here – a touch steeped in deep knowing there - they snuck up on you – they grew and matured somewhere in the peripheries. Maybe the thing was that the more you _really_ looked for them, the more you started to realize, they'd been there all along.

Rachel was already enjoying the waters as she helped to guide Alex down next to her. He awakened more as the warmth enveloped him.

“Beer?” Greg slides down on his other side. “Figure you may not have the stomach for any more wine tonight, aye.”

“Ahh, please don’t make me laugh - hurts to.”

“Sorry, mate.” Greg smiles. “Rachel?”

“Definitely. Can we turn on the jets?”

“Definitely.” He hits a button and the water comes to life. "Here, Alex.” Greg pops the cap off for him and extends the bottle’s neck. The water was doing wonders for his overexerted muscles, all aches and strain fading into the background. He accepts the bottle with a small smile. He leans back, looks to either side of him and sighs, taking a sip and sliding further into the depths until just his head protruded. This moment was truly sublime.

They enjoy their beer - and the bubbles.

Dreamy steam, hot healing waters and silence among three sated lovers.


End file.
